


Lost and Pretty Things

by grumblebee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Scenario, Anal, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Loki fucks his way to good standing, M/M, Masturbation, Ragnarok verse, Rimming, Stripping, Thor arrives first on Sakaar, Voyeurism, blatant dramatic entrace, sex in public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18762607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumblebee/pseuds/grumblebee
Summary: Thrown from the Bifrost and stranded on a scrapheap called Sakaar, Loki sets out to win the favor of an eccentric tyrant called The Grandmaster. But in order to win his favor, Loki must be willing to indulge his fantasies--and a few of his own.





	Lost and Pretty Things

This new planet was strange, that Loki knew right away. From the moment he hit the ground on Sakaar it had been a nonstop whirlwind of running, hiding, and observing. The first concern was that Hela would be not far behind, perhaps torn from the Bifrost by Thor as they clawed their way up to Asgard. But Hela never came. Neither did Thor. By day 5 it was clear that Loki was alone. 

By day 8 Loki had gathered intelligence with a little help from some slight of hand, and had learned the following: Sakaar was a dump. Quite literally. Refuse rained from the sky, bringing a constant stream of discarded spacecrafts, scrap metal, and occasionally people. The locals who roamed the vast wastelands of junkyards were not hospitable either. Loki had witnessed his fair share of strangers ensnared in nets, torn apart by starving masses. He was not keen to be one of them. 

The only habitable part of Sakaar was the capital, which was a sprawling slum that surrounded a jewel of a castle. It was tall, and reached to the sky like a needle in the haystack of jagged and rusted metal that was Sakaar. Within only a few hours of arriving at the capital, Loki could see a common element amongst the poor of this planet: a revered man called the Grandmaster. His face popped up on screens, smiled down from posters, and appeared as a seal of approval on most profitable goods. The people worshipped him, though Loki could see no reason why. This was not a leader worthy of adoration, as leaders were—as he once  _ was— _ in Asgard. Their planet was a heaping pile of waste, loosely cobbled together by bloodied unskilled hands. The disparity of wealth between the Grandmaster and his people was abhorrent, even by the standards of royalty. Loki crinkled his nose in disgust as another image of the Grandmaster flickered on the screen, his booming voice announcing the latest success of his “champion”, eliciting a cry of joy from the people. It would not be pretty, nor pleasant, but Loki knew that if he were to survive this planet it would not be here in the scrap heap. It would be at the top of the castle.

* * *

Loki was no stranger to charm, in fact he often relied on it. Unlike his brother, whose charm derived from being a broad grinning mass of man, Loki preferred flattery and grace. He never shied from a compliment, and offered them freely to his guests—with the utmost sincerity, of course. Any stranger can waltz in and pay a compliment, but only Loki could truly sell it. 

No doubt Odin saw this in him, often placing Loki beside troublesome guests to loosen their tongue and improve their mood. That was before all this  _ unpleasantness _ ...when Loki was a Prince of Asgard, and second to the throne. Since then, he had learned a few things about entertaining;  mainly, a smooth tongue is good twice over. That is to say, many men are not sated with flattery. They want to fuck. 

Looking himself over in a dirty discarded mirror, Loki smoothed his hands over the fine silks he had managed to lift from a scrapper’s cart. It shimmered a deep emerald green, the perfect color against his skin. He had to get creative, as the bolt of silk he obtained wasn’t cut or ready to sew. Of all the skills he had learned on Asgard, Loki had never mastered the art of tailoring—not when he was offered the finest tailors in the realm. 

Instead, he draped it carefully around his form, aware of how the folds accentuated his lithe body. He found some pins, as well as two large golden brooches, which he used to fasten the material in place. The result was a flowing robe of old, like those he had seen on the elaborate murals of his home palace, or the ancient artifacts he smuggled from Midgard. Statues of gods that the midgardians of the south adorned with garlands and sacrifices— youthful and radiant. Loki sucked in his breath, and stood a little taller, admiring the graceful line of his neck. It was as close as he would get, and perhaps it would be enough for this Grandmaster.

But first, to get in.

Servants of the Grandmaster routinely showered him with gifts. These were often their finds, presented to him in the hopes of a reward, or perhaps a pardon for a misdeed. Loki saw several people scramble for fine objects, shouting about how it would bring them comfort and joy when the Grandmaster accepted it. Loki needed access to one of these objects. Perhaps something large enough to smuggle himself into, in order to gain an audience with the Grandmaster. But he couldn’t trust to bribe the locals. They were starving, struggling. If he presented them with money they would no doubt take it, but not before tearing the silks and flesh from his body. No, he needed something better. Something that gave him access, but make a dramatic enough entrance. Loki scanned the pile of rubble, his eyes lighting up as he found just the thing.

* * *

“How much do you think the Grandmaster will bear for this bear skin?” A voice rumbled. The world shook, and Loki held his breath. 

“Dunno...500...600,000 units?” Another huffed, lifting the rolled up pelt from the ground. Inside, feeling only a touch anxious, was Loki. 

The pelt was a fine, if only mildly suffocating, ruse. If he was to present himself as an object of luxury, what better way than to arrive wrapped in a gift that reflected that. Though, as the two men bounced along, unsuspectingly carrying the trickster to his target, Loki couldn’t help but wonder if the misgardian who once tried this had indeed lied about how dramatic this entrance would be. But, she was a queen, and Loki thought it best not to deviate from her plan now that he was trapped tight within the bearskin rug. 

It wasn’t until the air grew cold that Loki surmised he was within the walls of the Grandmaster’s palace; a haven from the suffocating heat outside. The loud sounds of the street faded to hushed whispers, broken up by flirtatious giggling. The world of the elite was only a few feet away. 

Within the rug Loki began to brace himself, waiting for the men to present the prize so that he might roll out gracefully and—-

“ _ AH!” _

The world went white with blinding light as the rug was whipped open, causing Loki to tumble from the soft bearskin and onto the smooth tile floor of the chamber. A few onlookers gasped, and the men who carried him in yelled in anger. Graceful or not, Loki had made his entrance, and was now sprawled on the cold tile floor before the Grandmaster.

“Is, uh, is this supposed to happen?” A voice said. Loki looked up from his place on the floor, spotting a man seated on a plush throne. It was the Grandmaster, looking just as he did in all of his flickering screens. 

“Is it part of the gift, or did you just not check the skin before you took it in here?” 

The men presenting the rug were speechless, but Loki found his tongue first. 

“I am indeed part of the gift, though not by the hand of these two men.” The scrappers lunged forward, attempting to pull Loki from the floor, but we’re stopped by a curt wave of the Grandmaster’s hand. 

“And, uh, what...what exactly are you?” The Grandmaster asked. His voice was playful and curious, as if Loki’s appearance was merely a fun game. It was more welcoming than Loki could ask for. Taking full advantage, Loki leaned back into his palms, allowing the Grandmaster to take him all in as he lay sprawled on the floor. His emerald silks had fanned in every which direction, and draped gingerly over his lithe frame. His hair fell in loose curls, the sharp contrast of it against his pale skin striking, certainly. Loki felt a stray curl tickling his lip, and as he darted his tongue out the Grandmaster’s eyes followed with piqued interest.

“I am Loki, God of Mischief.” It came out as a purr, prompting the Grandmaster to lean in to listen.

“God of  _ Mischief _ ? Mischief? Like...party tricks and pranks?” He bit his lip in what Loki presumed to be a playful manner, obviously looking to tease Loki. Loki merely smiled, returning the playful glance.

“Party tricks isn’t the half of it. I am an entity of chaos, and I delight in the sweeter things that brings me.” He shifted his leg subtly, allowing a strip of smooth skin to peek out from beneath his loosely pinned robes. The Grandmaster sat back in his chair, but his eyes lingered over the exposed skin of Loki’s thigh.

“Well, then, uh, welcome to Sakaar. We’re no strangers to chaos here. Don’t really think we need a  _ God _ for it. Wouldn’t even know what to do with one…” he rambled, though surprisingly not promoted by his lustful gaze. “So that leaves, uh, what to do with  _ you _ , Lock-key”

“ _ Loki” _

Loki rose to his feet, the soft swish of silk eerily loud in the chamber. Every one of the Grandmaster’s subjects were rigid, holding their breath as they awaited some horrific conclusion to this meeting. It dawned on Loki that unless he found a use for himself in the next few moments, he would see what happens to people who displease this eccentric tyrant. 

“I must confess, that makes me rather sad.” Loki said, lowering his eyes so that he looked up through his lashes. “I have heard great things about Sakaar, and it’s acceptance of discarded things.” 

This interested the Grandmaster, who was once again upright in his seat. “Oh yes, of course you’ve heard. We here on Sakaar take great joy in finding use for discarded things…” his eyes roved over Loki’s body as though accessing his physique. “ _ Specifically _ , those who can fight….” 

Loki did not like the sound of that. He tried not to appear ruffled, instead softening his posture so that he appeared more delicate than he actually was. 

“I’m afraid I’m no warrior. I was once a prize of kings. Made for wining, dining, and other delights…” Loki paused here, relishing the way the Grandmaster squirmed, no doubt thinking of all the delights Loki could achieve. 

“A prize for kings, you say? But not anymore?” The Grandmaster’s eyes lingered on the folds of Loki’s robe, as if searching for some sign of a flaw. Loki chewed on his lower lip, an act of false nervousness. 

“Kings can be cruel. I spent my days making delightful conversation, my nights entertaining, but I was just a thing to be discarded when the next trophy was won.” He laced his slender fingers together, wringing them as if to sell his sadness. “And then it was all gone, leaving me with nothing but this bolt of silk, and that bearskin for my time.” 

The room went quiet, and Loki waited with baited breath as the Sakaarian tyrant absorbed his tale. He tapped his finger against his lip, brows furrowed. For a moment Loki was convinced he had lost his touch...perhaps too exhausted from playing Odin to slip into this new role. But then, a sign. The Grandmaster sighed, remarkably moved by Loki’s plight.

“You see, everyone, this...this  _ here _ is why Sakaar is lucky to have me in charge. The universe is a cruel, unforgiving place where people obtain and use and discard. But it all ends up here. And do we let it rot or—or fade into obscurity? No. No we love our discarded things.” 

All around the chamber subjects shifted and murmured in agreement. The Grandmaster put a finger to his lips, dabbing at the blue strip drawn down the center to his chin. 

“And I consider myself a benevolent being, yes. A collector of lost and  _ pretty _ things. Something you here, God of Mischief, just happen to be. It might be fun to see that sparkling wit of yours.” Loki smiled sweetly, happy with his little ruse. But the Grandmaster still had something on his mind.

“Now, I know we just met, but you did fall out of a bearskin so I’m going to have to ask some difficult, uh, questions. Just to see if you’re the right fit for me here.”

Loki felt his pulse quicken. “Absolutely.” 

“You’re not...you’re not a bear, right? That isn’t one of the tricks?” 

Loki let out a breathy laugh. “No,I am not.”

“And you’re nothing that’ll bite..toothy or ...bear adjacent. Like a wolf?” 

“Not a wolf, either. These are my only teeth.” 

The Grandmaster squinted as if to inspect Loki’s teeth from across the chambers, and Loki was unsure whether he was expected to smile. He did so sheepishly, turning his head slightly to show off the lack of beastly fangs. 

“Well they do look straight. Ok, uh, next question is a little more personal. Tell me a little about your—what did you call them—-delights. Yes, let’s hear about those.” 

This was a tactic Loki knew well: show and tell. What would start as a story would end in a demonstration, one that Loki was fully prepared to give. However, he wasn’t keen on dragging this out for the next three hours. The Grandmaster seemed to be an indulgent man, and perhaps when Loki secured a spot in his circle he wouldn’t mind taking things at a leisurely pace. But right now this was an interview, and Loki was not willing to play cat and mouse only to be batted out of the game by the Grandmaster’s paw. He would have to get ahead of the curve.

“My delights are plentiful, I can assure you.” Loki said, his voice a low growl. “Every morning I bathed leisurely in the lake by the palace, someplace I could be watched and admired while my king was at work.” He raised his hand to the brooch securing the fabric on his right shoulder and unfastened it, the silk dropping away to expose a track of fair skin from Loki’s throat to just below his right pectoral. “Certainly, you would delight in this as well?”

The Grandmaster watched hungrily. “I would. What else?” His gaze lingered on the pink bud of Loki’s nipple, watching as Loki stroked a thumb over it slowly. 

“I had an expansive closet full of silks and velvets. I was expected to look like a fine jewel and glimmer at my king’s side.” Loki said, now moving to the remaining brooch keeping up his left shoulder. His fingers paused on it a moment. “Nothing like this thing here, which barely covers me.” He let it snap open, the robe now only wrapping Loki from the waist down. The waiting was part of the tease, and Loki allowed the Grandmaster to get his fill of his smooth bare chest before continuing.

“Well we can’t have you in that flimsy thing. At least not publicly.” Grandmaster said. Loki hummed, his hands now toying with the front of his garment. “And what about your, uh, evenings? What happens after all the dinner parties and sparkling conversations.” 

Just the cue Loki was looking for. Loki’s fingers found the pin securing his waist, and he plucked at it gingerly. The bolt of silk fell away, fluttering to the floor where it formed a sea of green at his feet, leaving him without a stitch of clothing in front of the Grandmaster and his entourage.

Loki  _ loved  _ the reveal. That moment where he let his costume slip away, baring himself for the world to see. And oh, did they see. The sensation of eyes burned into his skin, drinking in every dip and curve of his form. In his younger years the rush would only last a moment before the mortification set in, and he would rush to hide behind his cloaks or tricks. But with age Loki had learned to relish the exposure. To let the world see him for the filthy thing he was, and  _ assume _ that he was defenseless. The thrill of the game sent a jolt to his cock, and Loki feigned modesty by attempting to cover his excitement with his hand.

“I would be taken as I am” Loki said, half a whisper. The Grandmaster coughed, and cleared his throat before turning to a woman beside him.

“Uh, Topaz, would you mind terribly escorting these two scrappers out of my chambers. There’s more I need to discuss with our new guest and it’s— well it’s not for them.” 

The scrappers, who Loki had half forgotten were watching him strip, fidgeted nervously. It occurred to Loki that they were waiting for their reward money. Topaz beat Loki to the punch.

“I believe these two want their units.”

The Grandmaster bolted upright in his chair. “Units? No, no I’m afraid that’s not possible. That, uh, bearskin belongs to our lovely new friend here and he’s—pardon my phrasing—-  _ buck ass nude  _ without it. Escort them out, or let them stay and discuss theft charges, either way they’ll be leaving this chamber.” 

The scrappers took their leave, frantically bowing as they made a hasty exit through the doors. Loki thought, perhaps, that the Grandmaster would clear the room to give them some privacy. Ample time for him to crawl into his lap and do the deed. But it seemed other plans were made. The Grandmaster did not move from his seat, but the lingering crowd of elites behind him began to shift excitedly. 

“Now then, Loki was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Grandmaster smirked at this response. “Oh, oh there’s no need for...for  _ that _ right Not w. But I like it. And I like  _ you.  _ You’re...interesting. Arousing, quite frankly, I think we can all agree. Question is, how open are you to our way of living here on Sakaar?”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What I  _ mean _ is that here on Sakaar it’s not, uh, it’s not an exclusive thing. Us. You. Them. Delights. We like to sample from different gardens, if you will. And if you’d be willing...uh...we can sample you today.” 

Loki felt his cock jump behind his hands. “Sample  _ me.  _ Pleasure your court?” He made it sound like a new and fascinating idea, but it was one that lived in deepest fantasies. To be touched in front of an audience, toyed with as these strangers reached out and stroked him, it made his blood run hot. Something the Grandmaster did not miss.

“Yes, yes exactly. And if you’d like to begin, start by removing those hands so we can get a good look at you.” 

Loki did as he was told, dropping his hands to his side, his erect cock bobbing up on full display to the room. It elicited a few gasps and giggles, which sent the heat right to Loki’s cheeks. 

“Oh, see? Beautiful. I’m glad you’re as excited as we are. Now, if you’ll do us the honor of laying down on the silk we can get started.” 

Loki lowered himself to the floor, laying back so that he was propped up on his elbows. The silk didn’t do much to cushion him, but it kept the cold tile from his skin nicely. The Grandmaster hummed happily.

“Alright, uh, lift those knees up. Let us get a full look.” 

Once again Loki did as instructed, planting his feet to the floor and dropping his knees apart. His cock lay upturned on his stomach, already sporting a bead of precum that dribbled just below his navel. Through his legs Loki could see his audience drinking him in, their eyes lingering over his aching cock, his stones, and his newly exposed hole. He could only imagine the scene he made, splayed out like a common barmaid, someone far beneath the dignity and grace of an Asgardian prince. But he was no prince here. He was a god guarding all their worldly delights, and now he must offer them up. 

“Does it please you?” Loki purred. There was a general murmur of agreement in the room. A yes. Loki took that as a sign to continue, letting one of his hands wander down his chest, teasing a line that the Grandmaster followed with his eyes until it reached his cock. Loki took himself in hand and stroked, slowly. He brushed the head with his thumb, sending a sudden shiver through his body that seemed to reverberate through the chamber. 

“Look at that. Beautiful.” The Grandmaster said, before turning and searching the crowd behind him for someone. “Is, uh, what’s-his-face here?” 

“Which one? Tall what’s-his-face or warrior what’s-his-face?” Topaz asked, her eyes scanning the eager crowd.

“Warrior, definitely. I want our lovely new guest to get a taste of our finest.” 

Loki continued to stroke himself lazily, watching through half lidded eyes as Topaz pointed out someone in the back. The man, Warrior, was a tall man of broad build. He stood a head taller than anyone in the room, which made Loki curious as to how tall Tall what’s-his-face must  _ actually _ be. Warrior pushed his way to the front, stepping next to the Grandmaster to await instruction. 

“Warrior here is one of my best, uh, players if you will.” He directed at Loki, only a tad distracted by the way Loki’s chest had flushed a fine pink. “Only problem is that he’s,well, a bit much for some of us. But you look like a nimble one, maybe you and Warrior would be a good match.” He snapped his fingers, and Warrior began to disrobe. 

It didn’t take long, perhaps only a minute for him to fully shirk off his clothes and step down onto the cold tile. Loki dragged his gaze down Warrior’s form, taking him all in. His hair was buzzed short, not unlike those from the arena posters. His skin was crossed with old scars, but the lack of fresh wounds led Loki to believe he had not fought in ages. His appearance, like his moniker, was simply part of the fantasy. Still, he was a handsome man. Loki’s eyes flit back and forth across his features, the most striking ones drawing his attention. Intense eyes, strong square jaw, broad shoulders and a thick frame. Glancing below the belt Loki saw why Warrior was a  _ bit much  _ for the entourage. He hung thick, and was already visibly excited as he knelt down on the silk in front of Loki. 

“Nice to meet you, Warrior” Loki said, eager to win over the Grandmaster’s preferred player. He spread his legs a little wider, inviting Warrior to wedge between them. Warrior’s intense gaze cracked with something playful, a good sign. He watched as Warrior placed a hand on each of his thighs, spreading them further for a better look. Loki kept his gaze to this new man, admiring the way his hands brushed against the smooth skin of his inner thighs. 

Loki had taken many lovers, but something about Warrior excited him. He moved with certain grace Loki did not expect, and though his hands were rough and calloused they stroked his skin as gently as a lover would. It was almost tender; something only he and Warrior could feel. To the audience, Warrior was merely settling in. 

The act began without instruction. It seemed that this Warrior knew what the Grandmaster most wished to see. He dipped his head low, licking a teasing stripe up Loki’s cock. Loki’s breath hitched, and he made no effort to stop the whimper that escaped his lips. Warrior took that as an invitation to continue, drawing Loki into his mouth. It was hot and slick, and Loki bucked into Warrior’s mouth as he tried not to ruin his shot by finishing too quickly. It had been an awfully long time since he was pleasured, and Warrior wielded a very skilled tongue. 

“ _ God”  _ Loki gasped. He tried to nudge his hips and set a pace, but Warrior had other ideas. Loki’s hips were pinned down, almost effortlessly, forcing him to endure the painstakingly slow passes of his tongue. Loki leaned his head back into the silk, his eyes fluttering close as he let his hands tangle into the little length of hair he could find on Warrior’s head. God, if this was how he sucked cock imagine what he would do to a cunt. Perhaps Loki would try that if he were allowed to stay…

Warrior then pulled off, adjusting himself so that he could slide further between Loki’s legs. Without a sound he hooked Loki’s legs by the back of the knees, and settled so that they draped over his shoulders as he spread Loki’s cheeks. He made a sound, a small hum from the back of his throat as he brushed a thumb over the sensitive rim. Loki hissed, cracking open one of his eyes to watch his new lover. Never had he wanted someone to speak more in his life. Instruct him, adore him, berate him, anything! The silence taunted Loki, as if Warrior knew a secret he did not. 

But Warrior’s mouth was put to better use, and Loki forgot all about the silence as a tongue flicked over him. If Warrior wouldn’t speak, he would. Loki moaned, angling his hips once again to chase the sensation of Warrior’s tongue as it circled his hole. Loki made a show of it, writhing and gasping as Warrior ate him. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, and whatever hair wasn’t plastered to his bow was fanned out in a messy halo on the silk. The perfect scene, just as he wanted it. Just as the Grandmaster did. Through lowered lashes Loki surveyed the room, noting a few onlookers beginning to pleasure themselves as the act continued. The Grandmaster sat quietly for once, his expression blissful as the scene unfolded. 

Loki returned his attention to his partner, once again shimmying his hips as a sign that he craved a little more. The Warrior picked up his head, and Loki gazed down the length of his body to take him in. Spit dribbled down his chin, drawing attention to the five o’clock shadow starting to dust Warrior’s sharp jaw. Down the left side of his face ran two decorative streaks of red, a war paint of some kind. It did not smear with his sweat, but it did draw Loki’s attention to his eyes—a piercing blue. 

Loki’s knees felt weak, and he felt them tremble over Warrior’s shoulders. He dreamt about eyes like that quite often during the brief years he had taken the throne at Asgard. Thor’s eyes...brimming with bravado and light. Not that Thor had ever looked at him that way. The past decade of their lives had been filled with torment, hatred, and betrayal. And when Thor was needed elsewhere, as he often was, Loki had only the memory of him. He could have changed so much and Loki would recognize so little. 

Loki twisted a hand in Warrior’s hair, partly to bring himself back. He wanted Warrior to fuck him, claim him. Get on with this so he could live a leisurely life on this planet and forget Asgard. Forget his miserable past as Loki and the miserable future that was Hela. Forget Thor...if only for a moment. 

Someone had kicked over a vial of lubricant, as Warrior was now slicking up his fingers under the watchful eye of the Grandmaster. Loki steadied his breath, looking to Warrior as he slipped the first finger in. It burned slightly, and Loki grunted as he adjusted. It really  _ had _ been a while, but he would warm up quickly. His eyes closed again, focusing on the way Warrior’s finger reached inside him. First one, then two, and Loki shuddered as they crooked to find his pleasure spot. Behind his eyelids Loki’s mind wandered, and visions of Thor began to play. Warrior’s thick fingers could easily be his, stretching and preparing him to be fucked. To be claimed. 

The thought made Loki’s cock ache. It twitched with every new vision, now dribbling a small thread of precum that pooled on his stomach. Above him Warrior pulled out his fingers, leaning back onto his hands for a moment. Loki kept his legs apart, awaiting Warrior’s next move. With his eyes closed the fantasy continued, and the sudden weight of Warrior climbing on top of him sent every nerve atingle. God, he  _ could _ be Thor. Caging Loki in with strong arms, breathing into the crook of his neck as his cockhead gently positions itself at his hole. It’s  _ too much.  _ Too good a fantasy to enjoy in front of a crowd. Their eyes watched as Loki is splayed open and ready to be fucked, and god does he want it. Warrior’s cock pressed against his hole, and for a rare moment Loki melts and loses control.

“ _ Oh Tho—“  _

He catches himself, cutting off before he speaks Thor’s name into existence. He settles for it being an embarrassing slip that the voyeuristic Sakaarians can giggle at. They do, delighted that Loki is being teased so mercilessly for their enjoyment. Even Warrior seems to enjoy it, letting out a rare huff against the flushed skin of Loki’s throat. He takes this moment to nip at Loki’s neck, leaving what Loki knows will be a blooming bruise before pressing his lips close to the shell of Loki’s ear. Finally, he growls, for only Loki to hear…

“ _ That’s right, brother. Say my name.”  _

Loki’s eyes snap open, the voice loud and clear and familiar. He tries to find the words, but his voice comes out in a high startled gasp as Warrior, no— _ Thor—  _ thrust into him. Below, Loki looked up in disbelief. How could this man be Thor? He had just seen him scarcely a week ago and he looked as he always did. Older, perhaps, but still sporting the same long golden locks and rugged beard. The short cut made his hair seem darker, and the lack of a beard almost unrecognizable. And those scars...he had not remembered his brother being so riddled with wounds. But then again Thor was a hero and a warrior, he was always in harm’s way. 

But the eyes…they were true. Loki felt rather stupid for not seeing it sooner. Thor’s eyes were sparkling blue. Full of everything Loki always admired, even when mistaking him for a stranger. But, then, how estranged could they be now that Thor was fully sheathed inside of him.

“ _ How—“ _

Thor nudged his hips, sending a shiver through Loki. He pressed close to him, making sure only Loki could hear his words.

“ _ I had to get creative. Like you.” _

Not wanting to stop the show, Thor began to thrust, his hands moving to Loki’s legs for support. Loki drew his knees further up, wrapping his legs around Thor as if to anchor himself to him. His arms found their way to the broad expanse of Thor’s back, where he raked his fingernails across it. Thor hissed, picking up the pace as he watched Loki writhe.

“ _ God look at you, brother. Is this what you wanted? For me to fuck you like this in front of everyone?” _

“ _ Yes”  _ Loki moaned in response. He was still aware that this was a show, and his responses mustn’t look too out of character. But yes. Yes he did want to be fucked like this. Thor leaned in, kissing him deeply as if to capture the moans before they escaped. His hips pumped harder, pausing only to speak between grunts.

“ _ Filthy.” _

_ “Yes” _

“ _ Say it.” _

_ “Take me” _

Thor did as promised, but not before rearranging themselves for a better look. Thor maneuvered Loki like a doll, sitting up to place Loki in his lap. Loki was guided back onto Thor’s cock, hissing as it filled him up again. The world was a blur of sensations; Thor pressed hot and flush against his back, his front cool and exposed to the room so that the Sakaarians could watch him bounce on Thor’s cock. 

Thor began to pump again, his hands pressed firm on Loki’s hips to hit him hard and deep, drawing staccato  _ ah-ah-ah _ s from Loki as he did so. Loki felt as though he was on fire. His fantasy had become real, and though he should be mortified he felt nothing but unabashed pleasure. He ground down on Thor, matching his pace as their rhythm began to fall apart into a jerky mess of movements. Thor reached around to roughly stroke Loki’s neglected cock as he bucked.

“ _ Let them see you cum”  _ he growled “ _ like the pretty little thing you want to be” _

Stars exploded behind Loki’s eyes, Thor’s words filthier than he expected them to be. He cried out as he came, the green silk beneath them now stained with his seed. Behind him, Thor grunted, his own seed spent deep in Loki, filling him up. 

The room fell silent once again, and as the heat of passion burnt off Loki began to regain his senses and take full stock of the situation. This was a graded performance, and the next few moments would determine if Loki would be staying, or if he and Thor would be escaping wearing nothing but their freckles. Blinking the tears from his eyes, Loki looked up at the Grandmaster, hoping he looked thoroughly ravished.

“Your Warrior is delightful.” He breathed, reaching his arms back behind him to playfully pull Thor closer. “You have exquisite taste, sir” 

The Grandmaster clapped his hands together happily. 

“I knew it! A perfect fit, it’s like you’ve known each other for ages.”

Loki let out a breathy laugh as Thor dug his fingers into the soft flesh of his hips, their ruse off without a hitch. 

“I assure you, I’ve never seen this man before in my life.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my first Thorki fic, so if you like what you see leave some love!


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